


Bondage Games

by UnromanticPoetess



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dom Shiro (Voltron), Gladiator Shiro, Lotor is a disaster, M/M, Pre-Voltron Shiro, Sexy training, shotor, sub Lotor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12410793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnromanticPoetess/pseuds/UnromanticPoetess
Summary: Lotor is intrigued by Shiro, the Champion of the arena and his father's pet project. He decides he wants training from Shiro, but that training takes a very unconventional turn. A sexy, bondage-y turn.This features pre-Voltron Shiro and Lotor (pre-banishment) meeting in the arena. If I get anything wrong, I'm actually pretty shaky about the timeline, but I think the show's writers are as well. Shiro doesn't have the robot arm, yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sidi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sidi/gifts).



> Basically, this fic comes from two places. One, I was joking with a friend that Lotor learned how to do that arm thing where he got out of the handcuffs when he got training from a Dom in escaping bondage. When I joked that it was a Shiro clone, she linked me to a piece of art by Lijau, showing Shiro and Lotor fighting in the arena (I adapted that to fit with this story). So, from that, this story was born. Basically, blame Sidi.

“It’s all just so incredibly boring.”

“What was that?”

Lotor hadn’t realized he’s spoken aloud. He narrowed his eyes at the gladiator near him, his next opponent. He liked to play with the gladiators, but that didn’t make these slaves his equal, to speak with him as they wished.

The gladiator didn’t seem perturbed that a prince was glaring at him. The man looked back at him steadily, his dark hair streaked with white, though whether that was a sign of premature aging or an affectation Lotor could only guess. He was big, solidly built, with a scar across his nose that did more to accentuate his beauty than mar it.

If Lotor had been in a different mood, he would have considered the romantic possibilities of this gladiator. Despite his boredom, though, he was in the mood to fight rather than fuck.

The man finally looked away, and Lotor wondered if he’d finally intimidated the slave when he realized the horn had sounded, signaling the beginning of their match. The tunnel opened up and the noise of the crowds immediately increased to somewhere around deafening. They knew Prince Lotor was going to fight. Lotor smirked. He always brought in the crowds.

As soon as the match started, the gladiator’s eyes sharpened, and Lotor had to dodge to avoid the man’s opening attack. He quickly realized that he’d been pushed to the defensive, and really who did that gladiator think he was? Lotor flipped away and drew a knife from the weapon’s display.

The gladiator’s face softened with a smile, and Lotor wondered if the man was purposefully being infuriating. Most people Lotor fought were terrified, but this man had a confidence and poise that Lotor had rarely seen, even among the Galra elite. It reminded him somewhat of his father…

Lotor’s vision seemed to go red, and at the thought he attacked wildly, slashing at the man and his infuriating smile. Lotor knew he was losing control, but that didn’t seem to matter at the moment. Besides, he could always blame anything that happened on getting lost in the spirit of the fight.

“You know,” the man said between dodges, “your moves feel a bit too practiced. They’re easy to track.” He neatly caught Lotor’s knife-wielding wrist as he dodged out of the way, immobilizing Lotor completely. “Like that. I shouldn’t be able to do that.”

“You presume to lecture me on…” At that awkward point in the sentence, Lotor broke the man’s grip and hit him across the face with the handle. The man’s bottom lip split, and a trickle of blood marked his face. And he smiled… actually smiled… at that.

“Better,” the man said. “You were fighting by rote. Now you’re using my own impulses against me.”

Lotor would have denied that he growled at that later on, and the crowd’s roars hid the sound anyway. What the crowd did see was Lotor neatly take down the damn smug gladiator and hold his knife to his throat.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” Lotor said, his breath coming in gasps. “What are you going to do now?”

The man didn’t say anything. His smile was gone, and he looked stunned.

“What?!” Lotor said.

“Nothing,” the man said. “It’s just… I didn’t realize how beautiful you were until you got up close.”

Lotor’s eyes widened. He backed away, the signal sounding that he’d won the fight. Everyone knew that Lotor didn’t kill in the arena, and the crowds were ready to appease their bloodlust with some other poor soul. Lotor threw the knife away and left the arena, neither acknowledging the cheers nor looking back at his defeated opponent. Somehow, he didn’t feel like he’d defeated the man at all.

* * *

“If you continue to insist on disgracing yourself by fighting in the arena with the slaves, I think you should put in a better performance than whatever that was this afternoon.”

Lotor had not yet regained his composure since his fight with that gladiator, so he wasn’t exactly in the mood to hear more of his father’s criticisms. Unfortunately, he didn’t exactly have a choice. He hadn’t seen his father since getting in from the outer rim of the Empire the day before, and he could only put off paying his respects for so long.

“I don’t know what you mean, father,” Lotor said, his voice not quite as measured as he wished. “I won the fight, and simply did not wish to prolong the embarrassing defeat.”

Zarkon laughed, a big booming sound that startled the crew on the command deck of the ship. Emperor Zarkon was personally inspecting the new flagship of the imperial fleet. This was where he’d asked Lotor to meet him, presumably to humiliate him in front of the military elite. Zarkon laughed infrequently, but it always seemed to be at Lotor’s expense.

“You won the fight. I see. And you did not notice that the Champion was merely toying with you.” Zarkon shook with laughter. “Defeated him… He knew he could not truly strike the prince. Not without incurring my displeasure.”

This explained the fight far more than Lotor’s liking. In fact, it explained every gladiatorial fight he’d been in. Only mindless creatures ever gave him a true challenge.

The smugness also became clear. The man had been toying with him. Though… that didn’t explain his last comment.

“The Champion…” Lotor said slowly.

“You’ve been away,” Zarkon pointed out. “At school, or wherever you are when you’re pretending to be at school. The Champion is one of the most skilled and ruthless fighters I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t lose. Not anymore.” Zarkon chuckled under his breath. “He now draws the biggest crowds the arena has ever seen. Or did you think the crowds had all been for you?”

Lotor felt his face grow hot. He knew he needed to get out of there. “I care nothing for crowds. I suppose I’ll be careful not to break your new toy,” he said lightly. He bowed. “It’s been a pleasure as always, father, but if you’ll excuse me…”

Zarkon dismissed Lotor with a wave of his hand, now more interested in the flagship than baiting and humiliating his son. Lotor didn’t run to his shuttle, but he certainly didn’t dawdle. Thankfully, between the shuttle and his suite of rooms, he met no one of consequence.

Lotor glared at his reflection in the mirror above his dresser and turned away. Unfortunately, his design aesthetic when he was 16 and had designed these rooms was very mirror-heavy. There were the three full-length mirrors next to his closet, angled to give him a good look of his wardrobe, and there was a mirrored wall with a dance bar set in, a remnant of his days of ballet.

All the reflections showed the same thing. His own face, the purple hue deepening in a blush, and the Altean marks under his eyes showing weakly under his makeup.

The admiration in his father’s voice when talking about “the Champion” had been unmistakable, especially to someone who was used to listening for approbation in that voice. His father had spoken of the gladiator almost fondly, and he was obviously pleased that his new pet had shown his son up in front of the whole empire.

Emperor Zarkon was a man of obsessions. If this Champion had become one of his father’s obsessions, it might be worthwhile to see what was so intriguing about him.

The color slowly faded from his face, and the damned markings went away with them. Lotor now felt ready to face the outside world again. He touched a panel on his desk. “Could you send a message to the gamemaster of the arena?” he asked abruptly.

“Do you wish to schedule another match, Prince Lotor?” a man’s cool voice came over the intercom.

“No. I’m thinking something more private,” Lotor said. “I wish to see the gladiator I fought earlier today. The one known as the Champion.” He suddenly found himself fishing around for an excuse. He didn’t really need one, but somehow this felt a bit more dangerous. He was asking to play with his father’s favorite pet, after all. “I wish to schedule a private training session.”

* * *

To his credit, the Champion did not smile when he saw Lotor waiting for him in the training room. Neither did he seem inclined to repeat his earlier impropriety.

“Reporting as ordered, Prince Lotor,” he said in clipped tones. Military background. Of _course_ he had a military background.

“At ease, soldier,” Lotor said with a smirk.

The man didn’t relax. If anything, he tensed even more, though this time he looked Lotor in the face.

“So… Champion.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what they call me.”

“What else do they call you?” Lotor said.

There was an imperceptible pause before he said, “Shiro.”

“Shiro.” Lotor rolled the name around in his mouth. “My father holds a high opinion of your fighting prowess, Shiro.”

Shiro did not answer, at least not in words. Beneath the iron control of Shiro’s face passed an expression that Lotor knew. An expression he’d felt on his own face after every mention of his father, and what his father’s opinions were. An odd combination of distaste, long-suffering, and… pain. Yeah, pain.

It shouldn’t have surprised Lotor. Knowing that Shiro was his father’s pet project, somehow he’d equated Shiro with his father, as if they were in alliance against him. That expression forcibly reminded Lotor that just because Shiro was admired by Zarkon didn’t mean the feeling was mutual.

“Yes, I quite agree,” Lotor said, changing that familiar expression on Shiro’s face to one of confusion. “You’re right, by the way. About my fighting style. Of course, you weren’t really fighting, were you?”

“I could not, Prince Lotor,” Shiro said. His tone remained distance, as if he was holding himself back. So different from the confident near-friendliness he’d displayed in the ring. It was starting to get on Lotor’s nerves.

“I know what I’m getting into when I get in the ring, Champion,” Lotor said with heavy irony. “I’m not made of glass.”

“It’s a no-win scenario, Prince Lotor,” Shiro said, extra emphasis on his title. “If I fought you to the best of my ability, it would either be a long, drawn-out bloody fight, or it would end quickly. If you lost, you would lose respect and standing, and your father would take it out of my hide… literally. If you won, your father would still take it out of my hide, and you would gain nothing.” Shiro shrugged. He actually seemed to be relaxing, and he was starting to become more presumptuous. “I ended things the best way I could.”

Lotor felt the anger pass through him. Shiro wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t already figured out, but it was still annoying that this slave was lecturing him about protocol, of all things.

“My father seems to think that you would have won,” Lotor said. “I got the impression from what you said in the arena that you thought so as well.” Lotor went into a defensive stance. “What say we test that theory.”

Shiro tensed, wariness creeping into his posture.

“You need not worry,” Lotor said. “I have medics standing by, and I won’t leave any more scars than you already have. No one will know.”

Shiro looked like he was considering, which annoyed Lotor still, as it wasn’t immediate acquiescence. Finally, Shiro said, “No.”

Lotor was half expecting that, but it still infuriated him. “I will overlook your insubordination long enough to ask you for a reason for your refusal. It had better be good, if you want to preserve those good looks.”

Shiro’s face softened, and Lotor’s “good looks” comment took on a different meaning than the intended taunt. Lotor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Because you said you were bored,” Shiro said. “If that’s all that’s going on, I can’t help you.” He glanced at the timepiece on the wall. “If you’ll excuse me, Prince Lotor, I’m expected in the arena.”

Shiro left, and Lotor couldn’t remember if he’d actually excused him. As soon as Shiro was clear of the room, Lotor sagged to the ground, shaking.

So. It was going to be like that.

He got to his feet, ignoring the pounding of his heart, and touched a panel. “Book me a longer meeting with the Champion.” He paused. “An evening appointment, if possible. This time in my suite.”

“Yes, Prince Lotor.” The voice on the other end seemed surprised, or perhaps amused. “I’ll have to get it approved by the gamemaster, but I believe he can come over tomorrow night.”

“Perfect,” Lotor said before cutting the communication. He didn’t care what it sounded like to any peons. He didn’t even care if this got back to his father. Let them all talk. All he knew is that he’d been left with more questions than answers in this little meeting, and he was still frustrated. He didn’t know what he wanted from Shiro, but he wanted more than this.


	2. Bondage Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some negotiation, Shiro and Lotor decide on a training regimen. Well... Shiro decides on it, and Lotor wants it too much to refuse.

Lotor had arranged his suite meticulously in such a way as to look natural. His carefully curated playlist sounded like it was one that would normally be playing in the background. The lights were comfortably dimmed but not romantic. The suite had been carefully cleaned by his personal staff, but Lotor had arranged things to have a lived-in look. Casual, not cluttered.

So, when Shiro walked in, stopping abruptly as the door shut and coming to attention, he was treated to a sight of Lotor practicing ballet at the bar, wearing a leotard and leg warmers, hair in a messy bun, in an atmosphere of a casual night in.

“Oh, you’re here already,” Lotor said languidly, turning his head as he balanced on pointe, one leg poised on the bar. “I must have lost track of time.”

Shiro took in the scene, and the fucker actually rolled his eyes, as if to say “I don’t have time for this.” Instead of saying that, which would have gotten him in serious trouble, he said, “Reporting as ordered, Prince Lotor.”

This was not the effect Lotor wanted, but it was one he’d been prepared for. Lotor brought his feet down and walked over to Shiro, pulling his hair out of the bun as he did so. His hair shook out over his shoulders like a fan. The immediate look of interest in Shiro’s eyes was unmistakable. Lotor let a sly smile play over his mouth, and Shiro was careful to study the far wall.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to come here,” Lotor said, keeping his voice low and soft.

Shiro’s eye twitched. “I have a few theories, Prince Lotor.”

“I’m intrigued. Please, tell me the juiciest one.”

Shiro did not relax, and he kept his gaze on the opposite wall. “You’ve called me to your private suite in the evening. My first assumption is that you want to fuck me, willingly or not. I assume discreet guards are posted outside to prevent my escape?”

Well, that was a fucking wet blanket on the whole evening. “Do you…” Lotor spluttered, “do you really think I would take you against your will? Have I ever…”

“A man in my position can’t afford to think otherwise,” Shiro said. “You have complete power over me, and I don’t know what you’ll do to rebel against your father.” He paused, then added, “Prince Lotor,” as if to emphasize their power differences.

“I’m not going to rape you,” Lotor said angrily.

“I said no in our previous meeting,” Shiro pointed out, “and you still requested this one.”

This wasn’t how Lotor wanted this to go at all. He still wasn’t quite sure what he wanted from Shiro, but now that Shiro had explained it like that, he was actually a little ashamed of himself. He was right. Slaves didn’t really have a choice. Lotor had always found his slave partners enthusiastically willing, but how much of that was to avoid punishment?

Still, he was angry at Shiro making him feel this way. “That’s… not…” He was still spluttering. “I called you here because I didn’t think I asked you for the right thing in the right way. And now I’ve made another mistake, and I’m sorry about that.”

Shiro’s eyes widened in surprise, and he actually looked at Lotor, giving the far wall he’d been staring down a rest. “You apologized to me.”

“It’s what’s done when one is in the wrong.”

“Not to slaves.”

Lotor sighed. “I invited you to my suite not as a slave, but as a fighter, one that I genuinely want to learn from. There are no guards, the door is unlocked, and you may leave whenever you wish. You may refuse any of my invitations as well. If you ask me to, I will stop issuing them.”

Lotor knew it hadn’t been an invitation that had brought Shiro there. It had been an order. Shiro knew that, too. Yet Shiro seemed intrigued at Lotor’s speech. At least he wasn’t running away.

“You’re already an accomplished fighter, Prince Lotor,” Shiro said. “What training did you have in mind?”

Lotor smiled. That wasn’t a no. “You said I was inexperienced. Perhaps I can leave this up to you.”

Shiro frowned, but not in anger or disapprobation. More in thought. “Could I put you to the test?”

Lotor wanted to grin idiotically at that point, but he held himself in check. Rather than answering, he gestured to the large open area between the ballet bar, the living area, and the bed. “Just allow me to remove these shoes.”

Lotor sat on the couch in the living area and undid the laces of his pointe shoes. He watched Shiro stretch, trying to gauge his reactions. Shiro seemed to be casting a façade of careful neutrality, but underneath Lotor could see the tension. Was he still worried? Was he excited? He was easy to read but hard to interpret.

Lotor had already stretched for dancing, so he padded barefoot into the center of the room and went into a defensive stance.

Shiro bowed to Lotor, and Lotor returned the bow with a trace of irony. Then Shiro attacked.

It took Lotor a few seconds to realize that Shiro was copying their earlier fight in the arena. He found himself copying the moves as well, but he realized he was becoming predictable, so he tried something different. He allowed Shiro to knock him down, then grabbed at Shiro’s leg and brought him down as well.

The fight quickly became a wrestling match, with both opponents intent on keeping each other on the ground. Lotor was about to get in the situation where he could flip up when Shiro caught his wrist and pinned it above his head. A few seconds later, the second wrist joined the first in an iron grip.

Lotor tried to pull away from the hands holding him, but Shiro was too strong and he couldn’t get leverage. He tried to kick, but Shiro was kneeling on Lotor’s thighs, pinning them as well.

He was trapped. All he could see was Shiro looming over him with a wicked smile he could only just see through the shadow. He waited for Shiro to move and let him up, but Shiro didn’t budge.

“Are you going to get off?” Lotor said.

Shiro smirked, and Lotor wondered if Shiro thought he was using an innuendo. “No,” Shiro said. “You need to escape.”

Lotor struggled, but the arms and legs holding him down didn’t give an inch. “You’re too heavy. Let me go.”

“Lotor, your opponents aren’t going to do what you say,” Shiro said, and Lotor noted that he’d dropped the title. “I have your arms and legs trapped. What are you going to do? How are you going to escape?”

Shiro was big. His head and shoulders filled Lotor’s vision, blocking the dim light of the room. He could see every detail of Shiro’s face: the jagged edges of the scar that made a white slash across the brown face, the piercing gray eyes, the little wrinkles at the edges of his eyes that spoke of a life of happiness before he’d come here, as well as the dark circles that spoke of his current life of fear and pain.

Lotor tried to concentrate, but it was difficult. The pressure on him, the feel of Shiro’s weight holding him down. It was fucking intoxicating. In this position, Shiro could do whatever he wanted, and Lotor’s imagination went wild with possibilities. He thanked whatever gods were out there that he’d caked his makeup on, because he knew his face was on fire, and the markings would surely show otherwise. He was also grateful that Shiro was balanced up on his knees, so as not to notice just how much this position was affecting Lotor.

He pushed and squirmed, but this only seemed to amuse Shiro. He tried to arch his back to gain leverage, but all this did was put his erection near Shiro’s thigh.

Shiro’s grin got wider. The fucking bastard knew after all.

“What is it that you’re trying to prove?” Lotor huffed. This was actually going in the direction he’d wanted, but certainly not in the way he wanted. It made him frustrated as much as aroused.

Shiro’s smile softened, but his grip tightened. “You’re still being predictable. You need to escape. What are your options? Use what you have.”

The fucking _bastard_. Lotor knew exactly what Shiro was driving at now. Even as Shiro was about to say something else, Lotor tilted his head upward and caught Shiro’s lips with his. Shiro made a show of being surprised for a few seconds, and then leaned into the kiss. Lotor moaned, deepening the kiss, but he didn’t feel the grip lessen. He’d have to come up with something else.

Still kissing, Lotor carefully pressed himself upward, and he ground himself against Shiro’s thigh. It was a bit humiliating, especially since he couldn’t help but gasp into Shiro’s mouth, but he could actually feel Shiro moving his legs. He bucked against him, and Shiro’s knees slid off him so that their bodies were flush against each other.

It was at this moment that Lotor noticed that Shiro was just as aroused as he was.

Lotor broke the kiss and smiled. “If you tell me you weren’t expecting that, you’re a fucking liar.”

Shiro raised his eyebrows. “You still escaped.”

Lotor’s arms were no longer above his head. They were currently wrapped around Shiro in a way that was definitely not clinging to him.

“In a manner of speaking,” Lotor acknowledged. “Do you really want to continue the fight?”

Lotor was disappointed as Shiro got up and put out a hand to help him to his feet. Lotor started to walk to the bed, his hand still in Shiro’s, but Shiro held him fast and in place.

“I’ve decided how I want to train you,” Shiro said, his voice doing a great job of not carrying the arousal he obviously felt.

“Oh, and we’re actually calling it training now, are we?” Lotor said.

Shiro’s face became stern. “That’s what you asked for. That’s what I’m willing to give.”

He was no longer using a form of address at all, Lotor noticed. It actually made Lotor feel smaller, like a recalcitrant child. He suppressed his usual instinct toward rebellion. “And what sort of training have you devised?”

“Escape training,” Shiro said. “Just like what we just did. I put you in a predicament, and you have to escape.” Shiro smiled. “It won’t always be as easy as that one was, I’ll warn you.”

Lotor gave a dry sort of laugh. “That was easy?”

Shiro didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed, and the smile that accompanied that expression sent chills of arousal and a little bit of fear down Lotor’s spine.

“So does the training begin now?” Lotor’s whole body was singing. He wanted contact and he wanted release. But Shiro’s earlier words rang in his head, and he held back. He would take no moves without Shiro’s say. The thought of that actually sent a spike of arousal through him. The control Shiro had over the situation—over Lotor—was = just as exciting as the hands that had held him down mere minutes before.

“No,” Shiro said. “Tomorrow, if you’re available. I will come at the same time. I’ll send a list of equipment you’ll need to procure before tomorrow evening. My resources are limited.”

He was leaving. He was going to leave, with both of them aroused, and there was nothing Lotor could do about it but watch him go and agree. “I’ll be sure to send someone to the market.”

Shiro laughed. “You may want to take care of this personally.” He walked toward the door. “Oh, and Lotor?”

Lotor nodded expectantly, hoping Shiro was going to change his mind and stay.

“Make sure you’re not wearing a shirt when I get here tomorrow.”

* * *

Lotor was pacing the room when the list arrived, sent by a special envoy that was attached to the arena. So Shiro had a few privileges, as the Champion. No other gladiator could send a message to the prince just like that.

The list was sealed, and as Lotor pulled off the seal and read it, he was immeasurably grateful. The note read:

_Lotor’s Bondage Games Equipment:_

_4 padded leather cuffs with rings for attachment_

_1 leather collar with rings for attachment_

_Assorted locks_

_Adjustable metal bar with rings_

_Silk rope, about ten meters_

_Ball gag_

_Butt plugs, assorted sizes_

_I’ll leave the aesthetics to your discretion._

Lotor read the list. He read it again… and seethed. This _thrall_ presumed to send him on an errand for butt plugs? He checked himself. He had asked for just this. He had practically begged for Shiro to take control, to train him. But what kind of training involved a ball gag and butt plugs?

It was obvious why Shiro had advised him to shop personally.

Oh, god, he was going to have to go into a shop with this list. He didn’t have to look into a mirror to realize he was blushing hard enough for the marks to show through the makeup.

Lotor paced the room, thinking of options. There were certainly discreet ways of having these items delivered, but they would take too long. Shiro had specifically said they should be there the next evening. He wondered what would be the penalty for disobedience. Would Shiro punish him? Or simply go away? That was unacceptable.

He took a steadying breath. Perhaps the shopkeeper would simply assume that Lotor was shopping for a new boyfriend, one with a kinky, submissive side. Certainly that would be a more reasonable assumption than what was happening now, that he was submitting himself to one of his father’s gladiatorial slaves.

He pictured the look on his father’s face if he ever found out. What he would say. Would he laugh? Scorn him? Or merely look on in disappointment?

And why the fuck was he thinking about his father?

Because this had all started as a source of rebellion against his father. Like every fucking thing he ever did, it seemed. Even systems away, he wondered what his father would think.

Lotor closed his eyes and instead of thinking of Zarkon, he thought of Shiro’s face. The iron grip on his wrists. The comfortable weight across his body. He thought of the smile, the deep kiss, the feel of their bodies close together.

He thought of Shiro’s expression if he didn’t have what was on the list. Smugness at embarrassing the prince? Or disappointment?

Fuck.

Lotor placed the list on his nightstand. He would go to a shop in the afternoon, and hopefully he could collect everything quickly.


	3. Hush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pooooorrrrrrrnnnnnnn

 

“Do you think it’s too loose? Want me to make it tighter?”

Lotor had several choice words planned out. In fact, he had an entire tirade that he was screaming in his head. Unfortunately, all that was able to come out was a few muffled sounds. Lotor bit into the ball gag with his sharp canines, but to no avail. The stupid rubber ball remained.

Shiro nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. It should be tighter.”

It was their third night of training, and Lotor was slowly losing his mind. Shiro’s definition of training was to put him in bondage, tease him until he was desperate with arousal, and then tell him to escape, all the while watching him with those dark eyes.

The first night had been relatively easy. Shiro had used ropes to bind his hands in front of him and strap them to his ballet bar. His only real obstacles for working himself out of the ropes were trying to avoid wrist abrasions (he couldn’t) and trying to ignore the vibrator going off periodically inside of him (he also couldn’t). After he’d gotten free Shiro had brought him off with his hand, rubbed ointment on the cuts on his wrists, and left him in bed without taking his own satisfaction.

The second night had been supremely frustrating. Shiro had brought a little toy with him that clipped onto a collar he’d put on Lotor. It was magnetically tethered to a remote control drone that Shiro flew near the ceiling, so Lotor had to keep following it around the room on tip toe as the drone pulled the collar. Shiro had only allowed a few brief respites, and had teased him with gentle touches whenever Lotor got too close. Lotor had taken so long to escape (he’d finally disrupted the signal by positioning the drone around a door frame) that Shiro had made Lotor stand on tip toes at the ballet bar, without point shoes, for half an hour after Shiro left. Lotor hadn’t dared defy the order, even when his calves were cramping and his feet were on fire. Even when he’d realized he had no way to tell the time, so he had to guess when the “punishment” was over.

Punishment? Training? Foreplay? Lotor could no longer tell the difference. It all sort of bled together, leaving him too exhausted to get out of bed before midday every day, and too keyed up to focus on anything else for the rest of the day.

“The thing is,” Shiro said conversationally as he secured the ropes to a hook. The hook was connected to the drone from the night before, and Shiro thumbed the remote to make the drone fly over Lotor’s head. Lotor felt his arms pull up, helpless to stop them, and was perversely grateful he could keep his heels on the ground. “The thing is,” Shiro repeated, “you’re so noisy. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sounds you make,” Shiro’s hand ghosted over Lotor’s cock, making Lotor both try to lean in and pull away at the same time, “but it’s not exactly stealthy.”

Shiro moved away, out of Lotor’s line of sight. Lotor moaned in frustration. He was naked, held in place with his arms up by the drone, completely unable to speak. He felt somehow more exposed than the previous night, and he wondered just how much he hid behind his own voice. Not able to voice his complaints, not able to say anything at all except for noises in the back of his throat… it made him feel his captivity all the more.

There were various clanking sounds as Shiro sifted through the bondage equipment and sex toys. He’d laid all the things Lotor had bought on a table and had forbidden him from moving them. Lotor’s cheeks burned when he remembered waking up after the first night to see that his room had been cleaned, and that a servant must have noticed the equipment. He’d barely left his room since, so he didn’t know what sort of gossip was being traded around the palace now.

The sounds abated. There were several silent ticks, and then Lotor jumped in his bonds at the sudden chill of metal on his back.

“Shhh…” Shiro said at Lotor’s whines of protest. “You’ve done well so far. I’m just going to push you a little harder tonight.”

Lotor closed his eyes at the words murmured close to his ear. Pushed harder? How much more could he take? Not for the first time, Lotor wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

Shiro appeared in front of him and held a closed hand in front of his eyes. He smirked and opened his hand, and two bells hanging from short fine chains jingled merrily. They almost looked like earrings, but the clamps were not made for ears. Lotor looked from the bells to Shiro’s eyes, and his heart began to thump.

“You made an excellent choice with these, by the way,” Shiro said. “You have really good taste.”

Lotor blushed. He wanted to snarl at Shiro. Something about Shiro complimenting him put him on edge. Of course, being naked and bound did nothing to help that. The ball gag prevented him from responding with more than a moan.

“Here’s the deal,” Shiro said as he opened the clip and placed it carefully on Lotor’s right nipple. There wasn’t much pain, but Lotor figured that would change the longer it stayed on. “I want you to practice staying quiet. I don’t want you to try to escape now; that’s for later. I just want you to focus on not struggling, not protesting… not making a sound, no matter what I do to you or what you’re feeling.”

Lotor grunted in protest as he felt the cold clip around his left nipple. His grunt changed into a gasp at a sharp slap on his ass which sent both bells ringing furiously.

“See what I mean?” Shiro said, his voice darkly amused. “Noisy. I don’t want to hear a sound. No bells ringing, no sounds at all. Each infraction will get a smack. After three smacks, we start over. Let’s try half an hour, and then you can work on escaping. Sound good?”

Lotor narrowed his eyes. Like he had a choice. Well, he did have a choice. All he would have to do is snap his fingers—no, really, that was their safe word—and this scenario would end, no questions asked. But he realized that, frustrated as he might be, he didn’t want it to end.

He also didn’t want to disappoint Shiro, but he didn’t want to think about that too hard.

And, so, he nodded, willing his body to be still and preparing for whatever Shiro had planned.

Shiro smiled in response. “Good boy. Now, don’t worry if you make a couple of mistakes. That can happen. The point is to learn and get better. Think you can do that?”

Again, Lotor nodded slowly, careful not to move his torso. He was starting to feel the clamps a bit more, and he knew by the time this “training” ended they would be excruciating. He focused on breathing through his nose slowly, hoping that would prevent him from making any noises in his throat. Shiro was right: he was really vocal. It would take all his concentration to stay completely silent.

Shiro again moved out of Lotor’s line of sight, and Lotor kept himself from craning his neck to follow him. He hadn’t tested what movements would set the bells off, and he didn’t want to risk making a noise in the first tick. What was Shiro planning? There were so many toys on the table they hadn’t used yet, and any number of them could drive Lotor to distraction. He knew that Shiro would be trying to get him to move: to shudder, flinch, moan, scream… all the things that Lotor had been able to do with abandon the previous two nights. His whole body went hot at the thought of what he’d looked and sounded like. The sole prince of the Galra Empire, crying out like a bitch.

A gentle hand on his backside was all the warning Lotor got. Shiro knew how to move absolutely silently; he hadn’t even heard the soft shift of clothing or the whisper of bare feet on the ground. Lotor tensed, refusing to move, as a cool, slick finger entered him. He huffed silently through the familiar ritual of being teased open and stretched, and Shiro was slow, deliberate, excruciating. He did nothing to jostle Lotor or shift him from his position, and trusted Lotor to stay perfectly still.

When Lotor could take three fingers easily, he began to get impatient for whatever Shiro was going to put in him. The problem was, he’d usually be moving back on the fingers, pressing against them, encouraging Shiro to get on with it. Yet he didn’t know what would set off the bells, if even the smallest movement would send them ringing, so he waited, letting the fingers fuck in and out of him smoothly.

It was when the fourth finger entered him that his eyes went wide and his head jerked up. This was enough for the bells to clank weakly.

The fingers immediately pulled out, and a hand crashed against Lotor’s ass. The focus, concentration, and anticipation made him feel the pain all the more keenly, and so Lotor stumbled forward and was immediately pulled back by his bonds. The bells rang loudly, and the weight of them pulled the chains enough so that his nipples pulled sharply in pain.

Shiro’s arms were around him, stilling him. “It’s okay. Be still, relax. That was one mistake. You’re doing okay. You didn’t scream or moan or anything, so that’s progress.”

Lotor felt himself relaxing into his arms. The previous two nights Shiro had been exacting and a bit distant. This felt so different. Shiro was encouraging him, comforting him when he messed up, even after he’d punished him. It felt good. Deeply embarrassing in a way that Lotor couldn’t think about, but very good.

“Shh…” Shiro said. “Let’s keep going. Instead of concentrating on keeping still—that’ll just keep you tense and oversensitive—try focusing on accepting everything that’s happening to you. You got worried about the fourth finger. I said I would push you, didn’t I?”

Lotor breathed quietly through his nose. He gave a miniscule nod, indicating he was ready to continue.

Instead of immediately returning to his ass, which burned with remembered pain, Shiro began lightly teasing the skin around Lotor’s nipples. They were sore now, and the clamps were a constant reminder of the pain he’d suffered already, as well as a warning for the pain he could suffer. Of course, that was what Shiro wanted; he chuckled when Lotor tensed, desperately staying still.

“Like I said, you need to relax,” Shiro said.

Lotor tried to follow the advice as he felt Shiro’s fingers again enter him, four fingers going in nearly to the knuckle. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensations. He was starting to worry that Shiro was going to put his whole fist in there when the fingers finally left him. It was only a brief respite, however, as the fingers were replaced by the rubbery head of a dildo. Lotor didn’t have to look behind him to know that Shiro had taken the largest one from the table.

The thing entered him slowly, centimeter by torturous centimeter. Literally the only way to take it was to follow Shiro’s advice: to accept it, to let it happen to him, to feel it without trying to take control of it.

Lotor’s eyes flew open. Control. That was it. The problem wasn’t that he was noisy. The problem was that he tried to take control over everything, even when he couldn’t. Even when it wasn’t appropriate or necessary or strategic. Topping from the bottom, he’d heard it called.

Paradoxically, as Lotor gave up control, he realized he had gained better control over himself. He could still feel everything keenly, but he could also let those feelings pass through him. It was easier to stay still. It was easier to stay quiet.

If Shiro noticed a change in Lotor, he didn’t let on. Instead he carefully attached the dildo to a harness that then strapped around Lotor, also attaching to a ring that went around his cock. This means that each time Lotor tensed his ass, the dildo tried to push out, which made the harness put pressure on the cock ring. Another reminder.

Lotor tried not to wonder how much time had passed. His shoulders were hurting, his nipples were now bright points of pain on his chest. The full feeling in his ass and the pressure on his cock made him worry that he’d come without meaning to, and he certainly wouldn’t stay quiet then. Shiro had promised to start over if he made noises three times, and Lotor didn’t know how much more he could bear.

Perversely, the thought of making a noise, of having to go through all of this with even less endurance, caused his throat to constrict, and before he could stop it sound escaped from his throat in a soft whine.

The response was immediate, and Lotor was expecting it. The first two spanks (the warning and the first punishment) had been on his right side. This one was on his left. The force of it sent everything moving: his ass tensed, the dildo moved in him, the harness tightened… only there was no sound. Just in time, Lotor had angled his chest up. The bells rested on his chest, the sound stopped by his skin. The angle made everything hurt, and the clamps bit into the stretched skin of his nipples all the more, but he didn’t make a sound. Small victory in the wake of a stupid mistake.

This time Shiro didn’t say anything. He merely held and petted Lotor, as if he were a treasured pet. He could almost hear Shiro crooning “Good boy” at him, and he blushed furiously at the thought.

The gentle petting turned more purposeful, and Lotor steeled himself. He would not make a third mistake and have this all start over. The last mistake had been stupid. He’d overthought it. Thinking about failing just invites failure, and the stakes were too high. Not only did he not want to start over, but he didn’t want to see Shiro look at him with disappointment. That would somehow be worse than anything he was doing.

Minutes ticked by as Shiro touched every part of him, occasionally pushing the dildo in firmly to make Lotor feel its size anew. As soon as Lotor felt like he could take it, he felt his arms lifted up, the drone forcing Lotor on his toes again, which of course made the harness tighten even more.

He was suspended in delicious torture, and his whole body screamed for it to end even as he never wanted it to end. And yet he could make no sound of protest, no moan of encouragement. He was trapped in the silence just as much as he was trapped in the bonds.

Shiro’s mouth went to his ear. “Time’s up. You did it, Lotor.”

A tear trickled down Lotor’s cheek as he flushed with pride. Still, he didn’t make a sound, unsure if he had permission first.

He got his answer when he felt the strap holding the ball gag in his mouth loosen. He worked the cramp out of his jaw and tried not to pay too much attention to the drool that he hadn’t been able to swallow.

“You did so well,” Shiro said, his voice hushed with emotion. “So I think that deserves acknowledgement. If you’re going to speak, I’ll allow it… but only if you first say, out loud, that you’re proud of yourself for doing such a good job.”

Lotor’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t be serious… but Shiro’s face was deadly serious. Not stern or angry, but watchful.

It was ridiculous. Childish. To say that he was proud of himself for only making two mistakes in what was essentially a sex game. Maybe if he’d made no mistakes…

Or maybe if Shiro had told him that he was proud of him. He’d done that both previous nights. Sure, Lotor had rolled his eyes, had scoffed at the words and changed the subject…

Oh.

Lotor was known for his arrogance. His confidence—his father would say over-confidence. But he wasn’t proud of himself. Nothing ever seemed enough. Everything he did, every single accomplishment… all it took was one critical word from his father to bring it all down. And so Lotor lived in a perpetual spiral of self-doubt and criticism.

And Shiro knew that. Somehow, the fucking bastard who was now looking at him with those dark, tired, intent eyes… he knew that.

Lotor’s mouth moved around the words, but he couldn’t seem to give them voice. Seriously, fuck nipple clamps and monstrous dildos and cock rings and bells and, hell, fuck Shiro, too, this was pushing him. This wasn’t training or a sex game or whatever the fuck they were doing, this was real mental baggage that Lotor found perverse comfort in.

Like the noises. Like the futile attempts at control. Like his makeup that hid his Altean marks. Like all of his bullshit that hid who he really was: a scared kid who never got approval from daddy.

And he never would.

“I’m proud of myself,” Lotor said, the words coming out easily at the thought. He didn’t qualify it. He didn’t know why he was proud of himself… only that he needed this. Needed to become a person who could say this.

Shiro’s smile was radiant, and he pulled Lotor into a kiss. Lotor jolted at the pain in the nipple clamps, but he didn’t care. The kiss was threatening to melt his already over-taxed knees, and he never wanted it to end.

End it did, and with it came the slow removal of the nipple clamps. If he thought he felt pain before then, the feel of the blood rushing to his abused chest made him twist in agony. Only a few sounds escaped him, and he was extra aware of them. Shiro didn’t seem to mind, and merely held him as he waited through the pain.

Shiro stepped back when Lotor finally stopped struggling. “So, you feel like escaping?”

Lightning quick, Lotor swung to give himself momentum. The rope bonds came off the hook on the first swing, and Lotor managed to encircle Shiro with his bound arms, anchoring himself into Shiro by latching his legs around him. The maneuver was all the more uncomfortable since Lotor still had on the harness, but he still managed at smirk at Shiro’s surprised look.

“I think I’ve more than earned a decent fucking by something better than this piece of rubber, don’t you?”


End file.
